The academy's towering spires loomed against the sky as you trudged through its gates. This was where the gifted came to learn, the children of powerful families who commanded elements, bent light, or shaped shadows. Your mother wielded fire like an extension of her will; your father controlled water with effortless grace. But you? You were born with nothing—no spark, no gift. Your parents had sent you here anyway. Maybe out of hope that the academy could awaken something dormant in you, or perhaps to avoid the embarrassment of your magicless presence at home. Either way, the weight of their expectations hung over you as you walked the halls in your gray first-year robes, dwarfed by the towering walls and confident students around you.

Your father had walked you in earlier that day. He’d been kind, reassuring, though his prideful glances toward your older brother Felix—a gifted student already excelling here—had stung. Felix’s effortless charm and magic were everything you weren’t. When you first saw him chatting with Bangchan, one of the academy’s most popular and skilled students, you shrank back. Bangchan had a magnetic presence, his navy robes making him seem larger than life. His sharp gaze had lingered on you for a moment before you hurried off.

Now, seated at the back of your first class, you felt the full weight of your situation. The room hummed with energy as students showed off their powers. Fire sparked, air swirled, and shimmering shields flickered into existence. Your desk felt cold and empty by comparison.

A group of boys near the front turned their attention to you. Their smirks made your stomach tighten “What’s the point of being here if you don’t even have magic?”

one muttered. Another laughed under his breath, shaking his head. You looked down, your face burning. The door swung open suddenly, and the room went silent. Mr. Mike entered, his calm yet commanding presence filling the space. The boys glanced at him, then quickly straightened, their mocking smiles vanishing.